


The Control Room Floor

by interstate_69



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, Untimely Phone Call, Workplace Sex, we love the Glasses Boys(TM) of control room 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21605824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstate_69/pseuds/interstate_69
Summary: Akimov and Stolyarchuk get... distracted on a couple of night shifts. One night, they have to work a shift practically by themselves. But hey, they're just co-workers, right? Wrong.
Relationships: Aleksandr Akimov/Boris Stolyarchuk
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	The Control Room Floor

(Monday night shift, 1:05 AM)

The air in reactor control room 4 was still, and reasonably quiet, but a undercurrent of electricity ran beneath the surface. Or so it seemed to Aleksandr Akimov, the night shift foreman on duty at the time. The panels were fine, the facility itself ran great, but the tension came from his comrades in the room. More specifically, from a certain somebody who was currently watching over the turbine panels a few feet away.

Boris Stolyarchuk leaned against the panel casually, his eyes tracking the lights and dials. Blinking panel lights reflected off his glasses. To a casual observer, everything seemed normal, except -- every so often, Akimov caught Stolyarchuk glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. A quick, furtive glance, accompanied by the slightest smirk. And then it was gone. Akimov blinked, trying to focus on his own duties. He would succeed, but to his own bewilderment, his mind would drift back to those sneaking glances. He found himself looking over at Stolyarchuk a little too often. And when their eyes happened to meet, Akimov glanced away quickly, feeling as though there was something illicit about the whole affair. The feeling was reflected in the conspiratorial glint in Stolyarchuk's eye.

In any case, Akimov kept to his side of the room, keeping an eye on the power indicators, and occasionally collaborating with the senior engineer and others on duty with him. And Stolyarchuk was on the other end of the control panel, dealing with a different set of diagnostics and personnel. If Akimov kept his mind on his work, he could almost dismiss those odd little glances as a product of his imagination. And then it would happen again. Below the surface of his mind, curiosity ate at him. What did Stolyarchuk want? Was it a coincidence?

(Monday night shift, 2:26 AM)

"Sasha!" 

Akimov looked up rapidly upon hearing his first name called. He saw Stolyarchuk casually walking towards him, carrying a thin sheaf of papers covered in writing.

"These were dropped off by an earlier shift," Stolyarchuk said, referring to the papers. "The day supervisor meant for you to look them over." Akimov gratefully accepted the pile, giving them a quick once-over absentmindedly.

"Slow night, isn't it?" Stolyarchuk mused. "Everything's calm." A knowing half-smile crossed his face briefly. The air between them was heavy with something unspoken, undefined. Stolyarchuk made it worse all on his own, just by the smirk on his face, and the way he put something of a swagger in his step when he walked over. He acted like he wanted something out of Akimov. And like he knew he would get it. You'd think he was lounging at a bar, not at work in a control room.

"Might be true, but we still have duties to complete." Akimov stood firm, a little stiffly, still clutching the papers in his hand. Take the hint, he thought. Act professional.

But Stolyarchuk was having none of that. "Poor Sasha, you just can't catch a break, can you?" He eased in a little closer. "I've seen all the papers Dyatlov and the others pile on you. Here, let me help. I'll look over them with you."

"Th-that's quite all right--" Akimov began, but his words faltered as he noticed Stolyarchuk practically leaning right over him. Gripping the papers like a lifeline, he tried to take an involuntary step back, but only stumbled against the control panel behind him. Stolyarchuk, unbothered, cast his eyes down towards the papers. The two men remained close together, flipping through paper after paper--technical specifications and upcoming assessments of the plant and its operators. Several times, they paused to discuss the state of the plant itself. Akimov was, in the end, perhaps a little grateful for the help, though his nerves jumped a bit every time he felt Stolyarchuk shift next to him. Focus, Akimov told himself sharply, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. His nerves bewildered him.

Stolyarchuk was only a co-worker. That's all. That's what Akimov thought, anyway. That's what he wanted to let himself think. When going back and forth over the papers, however, he could almost believe that they had a deeper chemistry. Something more. And although they spent the rest of their shift after that in relative silence, both absorbed in their own sectors of nuclear reactor operation, Akimov was distracted by the feeling of Stolyarchuk's presence; merely on the other end of the control room, he was never far away.

(Tuesday night shift, 12:08 AM)

Akimov arrived before midnight. He was already adjusting dials and pressure controls when the rest of the crew on shift came in. Akimov looked up, puzzled. There weren't as many operators on duty as usual. The crease of a frown began to knit his forehead. He waved over Stolyarchuk, who might know what was going on, and asked, "Boris, where are the majority of our operators?"

"Out sick, other obligations, the works. Looks like we're running the reactor with a skeleton crew tonight." Stolyarchuk shrugged.

Akimov nodded. They continued to linger near each other for just a few seconds too long. Not much for anybody to notice; not at first. Akimov could feel Stolyarchuk's eyes studying him up and down. Akimov felt a flustered heat creep up his neck at the thought. He continued to hold Stolyarchuk's gaze, and the tension seemed to slow down time.

Akimov glanced away first, flicking his eyes to the panels. "Perhaps we should both get to work."

"It's a shame," Stolyarchuk glanced over his shoulder as he stalked back to watch the turbines. In a low voice, he added, "You interest me quite a bit more than generator panels." Akimov ducked his head, a scarlet blush threatening to creep up his face. Did Boris just say--? Akimov thought wildly. A damned flirt, that's what he is. Akimov shook his head to try and clear his mind, but the thought wouldn't leave. The sound of Stolyarchuk's voice still echoed in his ear. Toying with him. Teasing him.

(Tuesday night shift, 3:30 AM)

Akimov blinked wearily at the lights above his head. The control panel's array of displays and meters stretched up to the very ceiling, and nearly all of it had been within normal range for the past three hours. Akimov hadn't gotten too much sleep in the past few days. He felt tiredness tugging at his mind. Trying to shake it off, he frowned at the panel. With a lot of the usual employees out for the night, he had a lot of responsibility on his shoulders tonight.

A monotone alarm pinged momentarily. Akimov blinked, searching wildly for the source of the tone. Something had gone off. Nothing on his panel looked out of the ordinary, but when he turned to his right, he saw a warning indicator shine yellow over on the panel that Stolyarchuk was in charge of. A safety warning? Akimov leaned away from his panel to get a better look. Stolyarchuk, who was closer, had noticed the warning light nearly as soon as it had come on.

"The turbine hall, quickly." Stolyarchuk made a sweeping gesture with his arm, motioning the nearest worker to check out the source of the indicator. The worker obeyed with a quick "Yes, Comrade Stolyarchuk," and stepped out. The heavy door shut behind him, the sound of it echoing in the control room. Silence followed.

Akimov kept his head down and his eyes on his own equipment. Even in his drowsy state of mind, he was very aware of the fact that he and Stolyarchuk happened to be the only ones left in the control room. He should have been worried about how they would run the reactor properly with so little personnel, but his mind barely touched upon the reactor itself. Instead he was focused on himself and his colleague. Feeling jumpy and self-conscious, Akimov watched the other man out of the corner of his eye.

Not long after that, Stolyarchuk glanced over and met his eye. Akimov opened his mouth to speak, fumbling about for something to say. "Has the- has the problem been fixed? What does the panel say?"

Stolyarchuk tilted his head to glance back at the warning light. "Still on, but they should be getting around to fixing it any second now." He turned back to Akimov, studying him from behind those smart-looking wire-framed glasses.

"Ah." Once again, Akimov wished he could calm his nerves. He felt like he had something else to say. "...Boris?"

"Hm?"

Now, why had he said that? Blasted nerves. Akimov was at a loss. Worse still, he couldn't stop himself from noticing every little detail on his colleague's face, in sharp relief under the harsh lights of the control room. The tiredness unbalanced his mind, dragging up thoughts he would rather have buried deep within himself. Thoughts about how... alluring Stolyarchuk looked, to Akimov's weary eyes. He swallowed hard, silently cursing himself for dwelling on those ideas. But they were stuck in his head now. The nervous tension only built further. Noticing a turbine controller's manual stacked on the panel, Akimov started, "I think you left something by my control panel."

Stolyarchuk nodded. "Oh. I'll come get it." He left his side of the room and walked over.

Feeling frozen, Akimov watched him come closer. Stolyarchuk strode forward, on long legs that Akimov couldn't help tracing up and down with his eyes. Mesmerized.

Stolyarchuk reached across the panel for the manual. Stretching forward a little, he almost had it--until Akimov reached forward at the same time, intending to push the manual a little closer for him to reach--

Stolyarchuk's hand slipped and he lost balance. Stepping forward to try and steady himself, he came crashing straight against Akimov, who was tilted so far over that he went down as well. 

Trying to stand up, Stolyarchuk grabbed onto Akimov's uniform, and they ended up leaning on each other rather heavily. They were too close together. Akimov could feel the weight of Stolyarchuk resting intimately against him. He was acutely aware of every inch of skin they had in close contact. His heart rate spiked upward.

That bastard, Akimov thought, blushing madly. He must've done that intentionally. Nobody is that clumsy, I swear, he had to have planned for us to fall together. But Akimov's thoughts dissolved as he felt the warmth of Stolyarchuk's body sink into his, and he surrendered any attempt to separate himself. The tense electricity coursing through his body became stronger than ever, and without thinking, he gripped the back of Stolyarchuk's uniform, the fabric winding through his clutched fingers. Holding on.

"Easy, now," Akimov heard Stolyarchuk say, his words light with amusement, and dripping with something more... indulgent. "Don't grab on too tightly, or we'll both fall over." Perhaps it was true. Right now Akimov wouldn't have cared. The sound of Stolyarchuk's voice so close to his ear was enthralling. Some part of Akimov tried to wrestle against the feelings overpowering him, the urge to press every inch of his body against Stolyarchuk's, but he only surrendered to them instead.

"Boris..." Akimov sighed, so close to a whisper. A single word, almost too quiet--but full of barely-stifled longing. From that one word alone, Stolyarchuk knew he had what he wanted.

Stolyarchuk grabbed the lapels of Akimov's uniform and shoved him against the control panel. Their bodies pressed together. Stolyarchuk tasted Akimov's sweet, madly desperate kiss. Fingers groped over clothing as they grappled with each other. Akimov leaned his head back a bit, and their glasses clicked together; both pairs were knocked slightly askew, but neither of them cared. They kept going at it, making out, only pulling away for a shallow, gasping breaths. Akimov felt fevered. Intoxicated. He pulled one arm away only to steady himself against the control panel, still grasping onto Stolyarchuk with the other. In response, Stolyarchuk ran his hands down the length of Akimov's chest. Akimov shuddered involuntarily, unused to being touched so deeply, and loving it.

Dazed, Akimov stared up at Stolyarchuk: his crooked glasses, how adorable, and his eyes, heavy-lidded and lustful. Stolyarchuk leaned forward so their faces were almost touching once again, and breathed, "Sasha... why don't we go further?"

Akimov dimly remembered they were still at work, and he struggled to keep a hold on his sense of propriety, trying in vain to ignore the now-overpowering lust. "But- but the panel, the reactor... and what about the- what about the others, what if they come back?" Akimov sputtered. His nerves were going haywire. Worst-case scenarios ran through his mind, side-by-side with wordless fantasies about what could happen if the two men continued as they were.

"Don't worry about them anymore," Stolyarchuk whispered, curling his fingers around the collar of Akimov's uniform. Brazenly, he ripped the top few buttons open, then worked his way downwards until Akimov's shirt hung open, his bare chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. Stolyarchuk began to unfasten the buttons on his own shirt, and then pulled it all the way off, leaving his chest and shoulders bare. His pale skin glowed under the harsh control room lights. Akimov put his hands out to grip Stolyarchuk's shoulders, and then they crashed together, chest-to-chest, mouths together, kissing each other hungrily. Their hands ran over each other, grabbing at anything they could. Hips pressed together, almost grinding up against one another--

And then the desk phone rang, a shrill tone that sliced through the tension like a knife.

The two men froze midway through their rendezvous, staring cautiously at the phone. Akimov regained his senses first and lunged for the phone, fumbling with it and finally holding it to his ear, answering the phone with shaking hands.

"This is Akimov, control room 4," Akimov answered, trying to steady his breathing.

The call came from the turbine hall. Evidently, the worker they had sent was calling to check whether or not the problem had been fixed with the indicator, and what the readings said.

"I believe the problem's been solved," Akimov said, craning his neck to look over at the turbine panels. "I could put Comrade Stolyarchuk on the phone for you--" Stolyarchuk shook his head, drawing a finger across his neck. No phone call. Instead, he leaned in and whispered into Akimov's other ear, "I'm still busy," in a way that gave Akimov chills.

Akimov continued listening to the phone, nodding along with the voice on the other end. But Stolyarchuk began trailing his fingers over Akimov's skin, very lightly, teasingly. Akimov grew tense as Stolyarchuk's fingers stretched lower, running over the bulge in Akimov's pants, unbuckling his belt. Stolyarchuk slid down to his knees; his glasses caught the light as he turned to smirk upwards at Akimov.

Still on the phone, Akimov said, "The power output readings are normal, and we haven't gotten any more warning lights going off--Boris, please, I'm on the phone, don't--"

At this point, Stolyarchuk had slipped his hands into Akimov's pants and was tracing fingertips over his cock. Bringing it out, he braced his elbows against the edge of the control panel and slipped it into his mouth, drawing his tongue along the length of it. Akimov drew in breath sharply. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, he opened his mouth to try and protest, but could only manage a rather breathless moan of "Boris..." Akimov wasn't going to put up a fight against this pleasure.

"No, nothing- nothing unusual is going on up here, Comrade Stolyarchuk is just-- we're alright, everything's fine," Akimov stammered over the phone, cursing himself for sounding so unconvincing. He couldn't exactly help it, of course. Laying the phone down for a second, he leaned back against the panel and savored the way Stolyarchuk's tongue slid against his cock. He pushed it in a little deeper, and felt Stolyarchuk's throat constrict around it. Stolyarchuk stroked and sucked greedily, filled with self-satisfaction almost as great as his arousal whenever he would push Akimov to gasp or moan or make those little noises of pleasure that he found so endearing. Barely able to talk, Akimov tightened his grip on the handle of the phone, which was still transmitting the bewildered questions of the man on the other end of the line. He drew it up to his ear once again, still desperate to sound normal. "No, I can't put him on the phone right now, but I assure you, everything is f-f-"-- this time, Akimov had to bite down on his hand to stifle another moan of pleasure--"fine, everything is fine. We can... we can handle the control room." With that, Akimov slammed the phone down to hang up, a little more forcefully than necessary.

Akimov gently pushed Stolyarchuk's head away for a moment, lowering himself to the ground as well. "Boris, please, it's my turn..." he said, reaching for Stolyarchuk's pants. The two drew close together and ended up grappling on the floor of the control room, until they had reached a position where each's head was between the other's legs. Akimov was sprawled on his back, lying on the floor, with Stolyarchuk on top of him and upside-down, his bare upper chest braced against Akimov's chubby stomach, and his shoulders near Akimov's thighs. The 69 position.

Akimov pulled the fasteners on Stolyarchuk's pants apart and gripped his stiff cock between his lips. Stolyarchuk tensed up, shivers of pleasure running down his spine. Sasha, sucking me off? he thought, barely able to contain his excitement. What a lucky day. They handled each other roughly, with impassioned, sexually charged movements, stroking with hands and tongues alike. Akimov grabbed Stolyarchuk's ass to pull him closer, and Stolyarchuk arched his back in response, letting out a deep, fevered moan as he felt his cock slide further down Akimov's throat. Shoulders flexed, clothing was pulled aside. Stolyarchuk's glasses nearly slid down his nose a couple times, and he pushed them back up with his free hand, stroking Akimov off with the other.

Pressure built. Akimov found it difficult to keep composure. Every time Stolyarchuk's tongue slid over his tip, it felt closer to being too much. It didn't help that Stolyarchuk had been the one to start sucking first. Akimov paused to catch his breath. Sweat ran down his forehead and across the thick plastic frame of his glasses. Stolyarchuk was relentless, pushing him closer, and closer. Driving the waves of pleasure even higher. The waves ran through him. Throbbed. Built. Until they broke, and Akimov was pushed over the edge to orgasm. He let out a shuddering, satisfied breath. Cum dripped downwards and was swallowed up by Stolyarchuk's eager tongue. Akimov scarcely had time to calm down before he found himself going back to sucking, as Stolyarchuk thrust vigorously into his mouth, close to the edge as well. Stolyarchuk reached down to help himself get off, and at the very last second, when the pressure broke and the mind-numbing pleasure spread throughout his body, he slipped himself out of Akimov's mouth and let hot, sticky strands of cum drip out all over Akimov's glasses.

"B-Boris!" Akimov spluttered, reaching upwards to wipe the fluid off his glasses. Stolyarchuk stifled a laugh, rather unsuccessfully. The two men tumbled off of each other. Stolyarchuk staggered to his feet and picked his shirt up off the floor, trying to put it back on. Akimov sat on the floor, leaning against the control panel, trying to catch his breath. His shirt still remained half-unbuttoned. As Stolyarchuk struggled with his belt buckle, he repeatedly glanced up to check the data on the panels, beginning to worry about the reactor that had stayed running unsupervised while its operators were distracted. Luckily, everything seemed normal. No warnings, no anomalies. Stolyarchuk took his place at the control panel, while Akimov finished buttoning his shirt, took off his glasses and wiped them on a corner of his uniform, and studied the controls as well.

"Boris?"

"Yes, Sasha?"

"Let's... get together after work next time."

Stolyarchuk flashed a cheeky grin. "Always got your mind on work, don't you."

Akimov frowned at the panels. "Well, the reactor needs to be managed, and we do the important work of providing electrical power to the Soviet Union."

"That was a compliment, you know." Stolyarchuk said. "Honestly, I don't think I could find a better operator than you to keep an eye this place."

"Ah," Akimov said, adjusting his cap to cover up the embarrassment showing on his face. "Thank you, Boris."

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the Chernobyl fanfic readers, the glasses fetishists, and in particular, all the other people who are thirsty for Stolyarchuk like me.


End file.
